Chapter CCLXXI: In Nothing the Fool Doth Believe

A vast tundra spreads in every direction, as far as the eye can see. Snow, ice, and every now and then a rock or two are the only noticeable features of the drab landscape. A dull bluish grey sky thick with clouds and the silhouette of a tiny ineffectual sun, and a moon, large by comparison, are seen in the late afternoon of the unknown planet. Silence fills the air with an almost tangible eeriness, broken only by the wails of icy wind, and the crash of a rock rolling on the ground.

Then, something moves beneath a large mound of snow, little avalanches slide down off a tiny mountain side and a black gloved hand shoots out of the peak, grabbing blindly, attempting to dig the rest of itself out of the icy tomb.

Rapidly then, the mound shifts to the side, and Mazzic climbs to his feet and begins to brush himself off, running through a mental checklist.

Moving his arms and legs a bit, he begins,

Limbs...check.

Twisting around and flexing his back a bit he continues,

Upper body...check.

He takes a few steps, and throws some test punches,

Coordination...check.

Finally he searches internally for any mental injuries/trauma,

Mind...check.

Slowly he began to feel the cold creeping up over his exposed skin, and realizing the danger he was in from frostbite, he ripped off the sleeves from his shirt and fashioned a scarf. His clothes would keep the heat in, and his boots were waterproof, so there would be no trouble there, but the lack of proper headgear worried him and he realized he needed to find an animal with warm furs, or find civilization before he froze to death.

Remembering the power from his fight with Vole, he charged himself up and transformed into Neo Mazzic. The snow melted almost instantaneously underneath of him and he settled on a firm layer of permafrost, his sheer white clothing and features blending in perfectly with the surrounding landscape.

Scanning the horizon with his enhanced vision, he barely made out some lights to the north of his position, and took to the sky.

A blurry afterimage followed him as he sped through the air toward the targeted site. As he neared it, he noted that the light he had seen shot up through the air like a beacon, refracting off of the particles of snow and ice that were blowing around. The object that created it, however, remained unseen.

Settling to the ground slightly to the side of this unusual phenomenon he peered into its center and slowly circled the beam. It was obviously an incredibly powerful light, yet, against all logic it gave off no heat, meaning the source were incredibly far underground, or that it was a technology unlike any he had seen.

Suddenly he felt a brief warning tingle in the back of his mind and jumped, barely avoiding the bolt of reddish energy as it shot underneath, leaving a slight burning smell in the air. Whirling around he blasted the source of the laser fire, only to be caught off guard by two more beams, this time yellow. Rather than killing him, as they should have, the energy wrapped itself around him and bound him up more efficiently then ropes or chains could have.

Surprised by the attack, Mazzic turned, still hovering in the air and briefly saw two men halfway out of two ice covered trap doors. Realizing what had happened he glance about and saw twenty or thirty dark patches in the ice – obviously other trap doors to an underground lair of sorts.

A sharp sting in his neck, he slowly dropped to the ground, struggling to stay conscious through the strong tranquilizer. Slowly he faded from white-gold to the more usual red and black.

The last thing he felt as he blacked out was being dragged through the manhole and dropped unceremoniously to a pad six yards below him.

---

He stood in a comfortable room, a large sitting room or den by the look of it. A fire blazed in the hearth and a comfortable looking overstuffed couch and chair sat close to it, giving off a distinctly inviting air. Wooden beams rode the angles of the off-white walls and came to a peak in the angular ceiling. A card table laden with food was off to one side, while a small bar occupied the wall opposite.

It was perfect, and Mazzic knew never to trust anything perfect.

Never to trust anything at all in fact.

A man’s voice, cool and calculated, came from behind him, “Well, what a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time, eh?”

Mazzic turned and saw a tall nondescript man sitting in a chair that hadn’t been there before. He was grinning.

“Where the hell am I?” growled Mazzic. “First I get blown away in some sort of reality snap, then I wake up and don’t know if I’m on the other side of the planet I was previously on or halfway across the fricking multiverse. So cut the crap and just tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Well, aren’t we the frisky one today, my friend,” said the man. “I guess I’ll start at the beginning of it all. You have already met C.R. have you not? Well you could say that we share the same career track, I just am, shall we say a bit lower then him on the proverbial totem pole – damned Twilighters, always being better than your average rip watcher. You may call me Thomas. Simple I know, but I don’t get any cool acronymous name until I pass the 7th degree exam.

“You are now wondering where you are; that I am forbidden to answer as our supreme boss is already upset at C.R. getting involved more than he should have – I might as well commit seppuku rather then face him upset at me. I can tell you, however, that two incredible powers were fighting when the snap occurred, the like of which hasn’t been seen for hundreds of millennia. Anyway, that is not important, as the whereabouts of these powers remain hidden, however it is imperative that you escape and find your way back to the Spectrum. My limited scrying ability has foretold a blurry multitude of futures, and not all of them are good, but in the ones where the Spectrum Wanderers fail, you were not present. It doesn’t take a master’s degree in modern forecasting to see that you are somehow connected to the success of the good guys.

“Ah! Look at the time! I must be off, ciao.”

“Wait!” Mazzic cried, “How do I know I can trust you? I’ve believed in no higher power before, even C.R. couldn’t convince me of that…Rip Watchers with the power of the supposed gods and they can’t even use them…why should I believe now?”

Thomas was just a pair of eyes floating in the air then, his voice coming from all directions at once, “It has been said, ‘In nothing the fool doth believe.’ I’ll leave you to your own conclusions, however.”

The eyes faded and the world swam. Mazzic once again faded into the darkness.

---

Pain lanced across Mazzic’s body as he awoke from his unintentional nap. He had been chained to the wall by his arms, and he hung a good foot above the ground. Glancing about he saw some of his captors sitting at a table playing a game not unlike poker. Three of them were cheating profusely, but somehow they kept losing to a large gruff man sitting with his back toward our hero.

One of the men looked up and noted their captive was awake.

“Boss! He has awoken,” said the large fellow.

The gruff man turned around and stood up. He was roughly seven feet tall and had three large scars that ran across his grizzled features. His eyes were a reddish color that appeared to pick up the light, and his hair was long and tied back in a tail fashion. Mazzic couldn’t tell whether it was dark brown or black, but noted how his beard grew around a brand on his right cheek, and the lumbering manner in which he walked.

Sparing any ceremony the man walked up and slammed a rock-like fist into Mazzic’s gut, and was surprised when Mazzic didn’t even grunt.

“Well,” he grumbled, “It appears you are stronger then you appear to be on the outside, but no matter. I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you are going to answer them. If you do not…well we have our ways.” The man gave a grotesque grin as though he made a joke, and looked harshly at his underlings who quickly began to laugh hysterically, obviously more afraid of their captain then anything else.

“Let’s begin. First off, why are you here.”

Mazzic grinned, “I like the cold, don’t you?”

Another rock-fist to the gut, this time much harder. Mazzic grunted but bared his teeth and used the pain to fuel his growing anger.

“Alright, now, what are you looking for, if anything.”

“My pretty in pink ballerina doll, I dropped it out of my sleigh and just had to come looking for it.”

One of the men snickered a bit but was silenced as Gruffy looked at him. Another punch, this time to the face. Blood tricked down Mazzic’s chin, and he winced as the other fist slammed into his stomach once more.

“Tell us what the hell you’re doing here NOW!”

Mazzic spit on Gruffy’s face and braced himself for the pummeling to come.

He was not disappointed and was bleeding from his nose, an ear, as well as from his mouth, when the beating was finally through. The world swam and he was about to black out once more when a new figure entered the room.

Though his clothing was obscured by the blood and sweat in Mazzic’s eye, he could tell that this was the leader of this underground settlement. Walking over and looking at Mazzic, he sniffed and scolded the gruff man for beating him so thoroughly. Taking some keys off of a rack on the wall he unlocked the bonds that held Mazzic in place and ordered the men to take him to the medical wing.

---

He awoke once more, though this time in a hospital bed in a stark white room. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the bright lights and sat up, wincing from the pain in his head. Raising a hand gingerly to his face he brushed against the medical dressings and wondered where he was.

It came back to him rapidly then, and anger welled up inside of him as the memory of the beating flowed to the forefront of his mind. Mazzic snarled.

“Now, now, there is no need for that,” said the authoritative voice he heard from the room before. “I’ve never seen anyone like you around here before, and my men haven’t either. I apologize for your rough treatment earlier, but we are at war here, and this is our secret base. We’ve had problems with spies before, and you can never be too careful.”

Mazzic focused on the source of the voice and noted a man in his early thirties. The man was wearing a long overcoat, covering a high collared button-down shirt, and a loose pair of well made trousers. His shoes were also well made and looked to be leather. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, one hand on a knee, and the other holding on to a surprisingly basic cane. His face was fair and smooth, mouth turned up in a charming smile, eyes twinkling slightly, and his close cropped blond hair finished off the image quite well. Obviously he was some kind of noble, and Mazzic didn’t take well to nobles.

Sighing, Mazzic looked up at the ceiling. He knew that there was a good chance he could escape, but he didn’t know what he would do once back in the outer environs.

Swallowing his pride he bit back a snide comment and replied smoothly, “I understand your…caution, but all I want is a mode of transportation off of this rock. I have…friends…that I must return to. There is a much larger war then yours going on in the multiverse today and I am needed. So if you would be so kind?”

“But alas my boy, that is impossible, you see, your fate has already been decided for you, and though it pains me to say it, you’ve seen too much already and must be…exterminated. I can give you one chance, however: every year we have a kind of tournament, where all of our prisoners are entered. The winner gets a ticket away from this planet for good…and the losers are executed.”

“Fair enough.”

“You might be surprised, as we have some of the premiere fighters in our known galaxy fighting for us here. It may be a little more challenging then you as yet believe.”

“I have already defeated one of the most powerful life forms on the planet, I doubt anything you can throw at me will be any trouble.”

“So it’s a yes?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Good, it’s settled, you will be escorted to a cell, and just for our safety…”

A spray of gas surrounded Mazzic and he collapsed once more this chapter.

“You must sleep till it is your turn. Goodnight.”